East Wind
by LildaMay
Summary: Post HLV. Sherlock is back with an all new case that leaves him baffled. 5 shootings with no apparent connections. And it doesn't help that John and Mary's baby is due soon and that he has a new inhabitant in 221c. An East wind is coming, and Sherlock doesn't like it one bit.
1. Chapter 1: don't be rude

**a newwww storyyyyyyyyy**

**disclaimers blah blah blah I own Hedwig Black the usual Mumbo jumbo. Oh, Hedwig has nothing to do with hedwig, Harry potter's owl. Hedwig is an actual name of an actual saint and is actually my confirmation name (no hate) :)**

The great Sherlock Holmes was bored. Instead of being exiled he was sent back to the flat because of the impending threat of Moriarty. But it's been a week and there was been zero signs of him. Couldn't he humor Sherlock and stop waiting? But alas, that was Moriarty's style.

Sherlock was in fact with John Watson this day, picking out baby clothes. Well, John was looking online for baby clothes while Sherlock explored his mind palace, straightening things out and deleting unnecessary information like how to write an essay. Sherlock was a bit surprised that he still had that.

Mary had went out with her friends today, leaving the boys to their own devices. She hoped that a case would pop up, but as stated before, its been quiet. John had started looking for baby clothes mostly because that was the tab open when he turned on his laptop.

In this state of complete and utter boredom is where Mrs. Hudson found them when she decided to patter up the stairs.

"Yoo-Hoo, Sherlock, we have a visitor coming. Please don't try to scare her off," she said.

"Visitor?" Sherlock said, popping straight up.

"Yes, I had decided to fix up the flat downstairs and a nice young lady is coming to look at it," she said, emphasis on the young lady part.

Sherlock just scoffed. Not worth his time. Probably be just a boring airhead that would leave in a month. Maybe a week if he was lucky.

There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson ran to go get it. Sherlock and Watson heard her voice from upstairs, a mixture of Scottish, British, and American. Soon they came up the stairs and Sherlock could get a look at her.

She was a petite blonde, with sapphire blue eyes. She had a red coat with a hood on that went to her knees and she had a red beret on.

On to deductions.

She was strong and lithe, probably and acrobat in a circus. She looked like she has been mourning, so probably a close friend had died. Hardened look to her, so she probably was an orphan. Obviously been to Scotland recently, probably because of the circus.

So an orphaned acrobat escaping a close friend's death who was from America, but has stayed in Scotland. Couldn't she be a bit more interesting?

"Sherlock, say hello," Mrs. Hudson said, slicing a knife through his thoughts.

"Ah, hello," he said.

"Hello, my name's Hedwig Black. You, um, are Sherlock and John right? I-I mean Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson? Or is it Holmes now?" Hedwig said, a bit embarrassed. Their presence was intimidating for the 27-year-old.

John put his head in his hands and almost let out a sob of frustration. Even when he was married people still thought they were a couple.

"It's just Watson, thank you," he replied.

"Sorry," she said wincing. She was totally making a fool of herself.

"Why would you think we were married?" Sherlock asked, a bit interested now. She might be less boring then he originally thought.

"Wedding ring, looking for baby clothes. But I guess you're not the marring type. And there were rumors, but I guess they were wrong," she said, bowing her head.

"What other rumors did you hear?" Sherlock asked.

"That you could deduce almost without fault," she said, raising her head to look at him. "So, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, what can you deduce about me?"

He rapidly told her his deductions about her in that bitchy Sherlock way.

Instead of punching him or crying, she giggled. She full out laughed. All of them were surprised at her, totally almost breaking her ribs. Mrs. Hudson shooed Sherlock's legs off the couch and guided the giggling girl to a sitting position.

"Why are you laughing?" John asked.

"Cuz, He ThOughT I wAs an AcrObat," she said, hiccuping. She giggled again.

"Well, what are you then?" Sherlock asked impatient.

"A native Scott who moved to America before high school and came back to London to teach at Oxford University, a girl who got two PhDs at 19, and going to be a part time intern at St. Bart's. I am a gymnast, and I did just lose my mother, but I also have a brother and a father, so no, not an orphan," she said. She crinkled her nose. Ugh, she didn't want to be...rude. She hated being rude. Time to get the hell outa there.

"So!," she said, springing up suddenly," Who wants fish n' chips? Why don't I just get one for all of us. Yep! Fish n' chips. Oh," she was half way to the stairway now, "I will be taking the flat downstairs, Mrs. Hudson! And now I'll just go now, to get food."

She tried to hurry down the stairs without seeming like she was running away. She shot out the door. Hedwig paced around the sidewalk, trying to calm down. Oh, goodness she needed something now. Usually she had Nathan to calm her down, but he was in America. And she really didn't want to start again when she had been so good for ten years. She didn't really need a heroin addiction on top of being a lit professor.

Wait, what was she supposed to get again? Oh, right! Fish n' chips.

"Taxi!" Hedwig yelled, then winced. This was London, not New York. She hopped in the taxi, and told him the address


	2. Chapter 2: asleep on the sofa

Hedwig was on his mind that evening. He had never been that completely, well you get the idea. He wasn't going to say it. He should have noticed the paper cuts on her fingers and the university paper that was sticking out of her boot. Why it was in her boot, he would never know. Girls were not his forte.  
>A warm lump on his lap shook him out of his thoughts. He sprang up to see a fish n' chips bag on his lap.<br>"Tolcha I'd get you some fish n' chips!" Hedwig said brightly from the doorway.  
>She stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, looking at him expectantly. Sherlock didn't know what she wanted. She sighed in defeat.<br>"Your welcome by the way," she said, gesturing to the food.  
>"Oh! Um, thank you," he replied.<br>She smiled brightly again.  
>"Please stop doing that, it's annoying," Sherlock said, gesturing to his mouth.<br>She frowned, which darkened her whole figure.  
>"I'll be getting some books soon, so if you happened to trip on them as you go in please bring them inside," she said, a bit icy.<br>Well, her sudden change threw Sherlock a bit off.  
>"Why, why are you mad at me?"<br>"I'm not mad, I just stopped smiling like you told me to. It's not pleasant isn't it," she said, her frown deepening.  
>"Oh, I get it. You look to scold me, teach me a lesson," he said.<br>"Yep! God knows you need someone to do that to you," she said, smiling again, which made her body light up like a Christmas tree. No, she did not have cancer.  
>"Why do you believe you are the one to do that?" Sherlock asked, the slightest bit intrigued.<br>"I don't. But you are giving me much practice for when someday I do have a child," she trailed off, turning away, her bright exterior breaking as she walked down the stairs.  
>So she probably just broke up with her fiancé and is sad about it because she longs for a child to call her own.<br>Ugh, sentiment.

Well into midnight of Hedwig's fourth night, Sherlock was awoken by the sound of...a bowl falling. Which was surprising to him. He had fallen asleep. No, wait, no he didn't he was just deep in his mind palace. Good, he thought something was wrong.  
>He slowly went out the door, making sure to be absolutely quiet. But he was surprised to see not a burglar, but Hedwig wrapped in a huge blanket on the sofa, a bowl with the remains of what it seemed soup on the floor. She was sound asleep.<br>Sherlock debated about waking her. On one hand she seemed pretty peaceful, and she was quiet. On the other he was going to miss out on an opportunity of annoying her.  
>The former won, and he left her there so he could work on his composition. He delicately plucked the strings to see if the noise would wake her. She still slept on.<br>It was well about noon when she woke up, manly because of the sound of the Watsons talking to Sherlock. She sat up tiredly and blinked at them.  
>"Ah, uh, hullo, I'm Hedwig Black and you must be Mrs. Watson and little Watson," she said, gesturing to Mary.<br>"I'm Mary. Pleasure to meet you," she said, but she was a bit...nervous.  
>"Hmm. I knew a woman that looked just like you. Abigail was her name. Strange, the similarities are uncanny," Hedwig squinted at her through sleepy eyes.<br>"Have you ever been to New York?" Hedwig asked. Sherlock and John felt a bit of tension in the air. They didn't quite know Mary's past, and they didn't want to find out now.  
>"No. I have never seen the skyline," she replied, pointedly looking at her.<br>Hedwig relaxed and smiled warmly.  
>"Must be just the jet lag messing with my eyes," she said popping up.<br>"Well, gotta go to school. Um, what time is it," she asked.  
>"Noon," Sherlock replied.<br>"Shit!" Hedwig exclaimed, frightening them. "Why didn't you wake me up!"  
>"Why should I wake you up? And why were you up here in the first place?" Sherlock asked as she frantically gathered up her sheets. Mrs. Hudson already got the bowl.<br>"Warm air rises," she stately simply.  
>"Oh, right," Sherlock replied, getting what John did not.<br>"Well bye!" Hedwig said as she rushed down the stairs.  
>"She's nice," Mary said.<br>"So, any cases?"  
>"No," John replied.<br>Sherlock groaned and fell onto the sofa.

woot! Chappy twwwwwooo. hoped u like!

jeesh so much snow here in a place I cannot ssayyyyyy

review plz!


	3. Chapter 3: Poison, Death, Jim, Hedwig

Hedwig barely got to work that day. She was so very glad that she made sure to set all her classes in the afternoon. She had to get a ride from a nice man named Jim. Yes she knew the consequences of getting into a strange car yada yada yada, but the guy said he was a great friend of Sherlock's. Hedwig could tell when people lied to her (she was extremely skilled in that area, but that shall be explained later) and this guy seem pretty sincere. They actually struck up a great conversation, and she let him drive her back to London.

Before she got out of the car, Jim stopped her.  
>"Oh, could you tell Sherlock that I owe him some fun?" Jim asked.<br>"Sure!" Hedwig replied. She didn't quite know what that meant, but as Mrs. Hudson once said to her randomly, live and let live. Well, at least that was Hedwig thought she said to her. She was kinda listening to music.  
>Ah, moving on. She tried to hail a cab, but she missed it by that much. So she gave up and started to walk. A few blocks away from Baker Street there was an alley.<p>

WITH A FREAKING DEAD BODY IN IT.

Hedwig started to freak out. She rushed over and took the woman's pulse, but there was nothing. Oh no, what was she supposed to do. She didn't know the number for the police it never crossed her mind to find it out. She did a lot of experiments on random body parts, but she had never actually seen a full dead body.

Okay, first she had to calm down. Breathe in breathe out. Now she had to call someone. But who? Oh right! Sherlock! She whipped out her phone and typed in his number. She had acquired it from Mrs. Hudson when she came.

"Sherlock Holmes. Who is this?"  
>"Sher-Sher-Sherlock, um, like there's a dead body in a middle of an alleyway and oh god um whaddo I do?" Hedwig said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.<br>"Wait, is this Hedwig? Hold on I'm coming where are you? Have you phoned the police yet?"  
>"N-no. I don't know the number and I'm on North Harlington near Baker Street," she said. She could almost see his you-are-a-complete-and-utter-idiot face.<br>"Don't worry I'm coming, John has phoned the police," he said before hanging up.  
>"Oh Jesus," she said, sinking to the floor.<p>

Death was not her speciality. The only other time she had ever experienced it was when her mother died a year ago. But that was in a hospital, Sylwia wasn't shot down in a random alleyway. She glanced at the body for a few seconds then looked away. It was a woman, around her age, with a bullet hole in her back, a great big red stain on her jacket. Groceries were littered around her. There was smashed baby food jars. Oh god she was a mother.

Hedwig was seriously doubting she was going to apply for that internship at St. Bart's.

"Hedwig!" Sherlock yelled behind her.  
>She shakily turned and stood to her feet. She suddenly felt a bit lightheaded. She lurched forward and Sherlock caught her and straightened her out.<br>"Did you see who did this?" Sherlock asked.  
>"N-no. Oh Jesus," she said, her knees buckling. Sherlock caught her again. Her vision blurred.<p>

Something was wrong. She wasn't this, weak. Then she realized, she was poisoned.

Foxglove poison. Nathan and her had been experimenting with non fatal poisons and one of them was foxglove leaves.

"Fox-foxglove," she managed to get out. She heard sirens and it hurt her ears.  
>"Oh no, Hedwig stay with us, Hedwig, Hedwig..."<p>

She slipped down, trying to stay awake. She blinked and instead of Sherlock it was Peter. But why Peter? He should be in America. With Serenity and Leonardo and Nicholas and Na-Nathan. Oh wait, that's just, just Sherlock. They had the same crazy black hair and blue eyes.  
>"Ughhh," she groaned.<br>She felt herself being lifted up and on to a stretcher.  
>"No-no hospital. If, if Ni-Nicholas finds out, he'll bring me back," she said, trying to find Sherlock.<br>"Who's Nicholas?" Sherlock asked, jumping into the ambulance. At least she thought it was him. She still couldn't distinguish between him and Peter.  
>"Brother," she stated simply. If she said anymore she might throw up. She felt the doctors rushing around her, taking her coat off.<p>

"Do you know who did this to you?" Sherlock/Peter asked, his voice fierce.  
>The only person she had been close enough to get poisoned by was...<p>

Jim. That bastard.

And that was Hedwig's last thought before she blacked out.

"Why am I here?" Hedwig asked.

She was at Scotland Yard, being questioned by Lestrade. Sherlock and John were leaning against the wall. Sherlock was quite pleased with Hedwig when she walked into Scotland Yard, immediately announcing that there was so much stupid in this building she could practically feel it. She had just met Anderson.  
>"Because you are a suspect. Besides, we found a gun on you. We have to entertain-"<br>"A gun that is registered in America, Canada, and most of Europe, including England. That bullet wasn't even from my gun. I've told you my story, and I wish to go home. Besides, I'm still recovering from the fucking poison, and I have to be at Oxford in two hours," she snapped, getting up to go, but was caught on the handcuffs that bound her to the table. She scowled, which was not a pretty sight. She jerked her hands, but got caught again. She scowled and sat back down.  
>"By the way, who did poison you?" Sherlock asked, speaking for the first time.<br>"Your friend," she sneered.  
>Sherlock almost flinched.<br>"What, friend? Did they tell you their name?" he asked, leaning forward a bit in anticipation.  
>"Some dude named Jim," she growled.<br>"Moriarty," he said, straightening and tensing.  
>"Did you miss me?"<p>

Sherlock stared at Hedwig.  
>"What did you say?" Sherlock asked, suddenly right next to her.<br>"Um, some dude named Jim?" Hedwig said, confused.  
>"No, what did you say after that?" Sherlock asked, impatient.<br>"Um, nothing..." she said, staring at Sherlock like he was crazy.

It hit Sherlock suddenly.

"Moriarty," he said to her.

Hedwig became stark still with her eyes closed.  
>"Did you miss me?" she repeated monotoned. John and Lestrade tensed.<br>She blinked, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh! That's what you meant. That happens all the time," she said nonchalantly.  
>Sherlock looked surprised. His thoughts raced. And suddenly, a page of a chemistry book appeared in his mind.<p>

"Hedwig, recite page 45 of The Mysteries of Chemistry," he said.  
>She recited the page perfectly.<p>

"Hedwig, Mycroft Holmes."

"I hold only a minor position in the British government."

"Hedwig, Dr. John Watson."

"Blogger, doctor, solider. Maximum surveillance. Sherlock Holmes's pressure point.

"Hedwig, Sherlock Holmes."

"Consulting Detective. Deerstalker man. Lives in 221b. Officially dead a year ago. 'Hedwig! Do you remember that man I told you about.' 'Yea, Serenity. Sherlock Holmes. What about im.' 'He's back.'" she finished, opening her eyes and blinking.

All three of them looked at her in shock. She squirmed under their stares.  
>"How-how can you do that?" John asked.<p>

"I have a photographic memory. I was trained to immediately find information when I heard special keywords. Sherlock has a mind palace, I have more like a library," she said, as though it was a normal as tea.

"Who trained you?" Sherlock asked.

Hedwig hesitated. She wasn't supposed to tell people that. Shit shit shitty shit shit

"Oh my god, Hedwig Black, the Hedwig Black," Lestrade exclaimed.  
>Hedwig winced. She hated when people said that.<p>

"What does that mean?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Hedwig Black, CIA, FBI, MI6, Secret Service, Prodigy Child, basically if you want anything done, ask her. She's part of the Six Sicarii. Wow, I've heard about you!"

Hedwig winced so badly it hurt

"Retired. I'm a professor now. Advanced Literature Analyzation. Besides, we actually never killed anyone," she said. Dammit, her secret was found and now she couldn't have a clean slate now.

"Six Sicarii? I've never heard of them," Sherlock said.

He was more intrigued with her then ever. A 27 year old assassin lives under him now. Well, it was like anything was new. Mary was an assassin too. Oh, they knew each other before, no wonder Mary was a bit nervous.

"You aren't supposed too. It was on for three years until my mother, the head of the apartment we were in, died. Only a few people could know. I'm surprised that Lestrade knew. But how does this bring us any closer to the killer?" Hedwig asked, trying to change the subject.

"Well the killer is obviously with Moriarty, who isn't these days. I'm pretty sure Scotland Yard can figure it out. Goodbye Lestrade," he said, striding out of the room.

"Hey! Aren't you forgetting something?" John asked. Sherlock turned around and Hedwig gestured to her handcuffs.

"Oh, right."

**oh yeah uh hun two chappies, in one day, I'm on a rolllllll! :) oh and llama hunter on fire, I'm surprised you figured it out:P and sorry about the feels I'll try to keep them to a minimum. Oh and the Six Sicarii are just something I made up. well, I'm pretty sure they arent a real thing. i hope you guys liked it **

**review below :)**


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